What are Vampires made of?
by MycroftsAngelEyes
Summary: A companion piece to a piece by Icarus Chained on LJ. - He's Nikola Tesla... who is he to wonder what a true vampire is made of? xD


**This is for the fantastic Icarus_Chained since I did promise to write a fic in response to her own brilliant No True Vampire xD**

**This is obviously set after "Awakening" and probably by only a few days Sanctuary!Verse time :p**

**What are Vampires made of?**

Who is he? What is he? _Why_ is he even considering such thoughts? He doesn't _have_ to question himself, there are more than enough people to do that for him so why is he?

Standing on the tower overlooking Helen's Sanctuary, her crowning achievement really, he wonders what he's doing. Why is he still here? He's got the whole world before him and all the time in the world to see it, to conquer it. But does he _want_ to conquer it anymore?

He remembers Africa. He remembers the stronghold. He remembers Afina _("Mongrel")_ and he remembers how he lost to her. He lost to a Queen of his kind. No. Not _his _kind. _Her_ kind. Not his. He's a mongrel afterall, he can't be what he's not. And he can't be a true vampire either.

And the question he keeps on asking himself is; does he _want_ to be a _true_ vampire?

A true vampire is a fighter, a warrior, a leader and a master of those weaker than himself. He's not any of those really. He can fight yes, but it's not fighting so much as standing and taking each blow as they come. He's been a warrior true, but not the type of warrior Afina knows; he was a warrior of words, still is to some degree. A leader... should he even think about that one _at all_ unless he's lost in delusions of grandeur? – and Helen has already shot him out of his delusions; literally in fact. No-one listens to him unless he makes them, and even when he makes them it doesn't always work the way he planned. World War Two is a prime example of that. Communication is the key unless he's the one communicating apparently.

And he can't call himself a master can he? He's weaker than most of the _humans_ if truth be told. Oh of course he doesn't mean physically because he's the one who'll walk away at the end of the day, the end of everyday. He doesn't mean the body. He means the mind. It's always about the mind for him, the genius he clings to so dearly as though it's a life-raft in the midst of the Atlantic ocean. James was always ahead of him in terms of genius – oh sure, Nikola had been born with his smarts, but so had James and sometimes Nikola has to remind himself that James was his rival even _before_ the Source Blood changed them all. And then there's Helen. Oh sweet, beautiful, _brilliant_ Helen. How could he _ever_ be better than her? God Himself would have a problem trying to find a reason for being superior to Helen Magnus.

A true vampire. Bah! He wasn't even able to play human convincingly, even when he _was_ human. Pigeons had been his friends before his change had scared them off. Animals had been his companions since young and electricity his teacher. Science his real family. But that isn't how a human lives, that isn't how a true vampire acts.

But then again, he's not a _true_ vampire is he? And he's not human either. He's somewhere in between. He's the oddity out of the entire Five. Oh sure, they were outcasts and strange even when they'd been untainted by the Source Blood but the truth, the real and bare truth is, Nikola has always been a freak of nature. He once heard Johnny boy say that Helen had taught him that he was _"neither a freak of nature nor a devil" _and maybe for Johnny that's true, but not for him. He's the stuff of nightmares made tangible by a small vial of blood.

"Penny for your thoughts." Helen's voice filters through the air to him and he _doesn't_ jump. Well, maybe he does a little but neither of them will acknowledge the fact. He doesn't turn away from the view he hasn't been taking in and Helen obviously doesn't expect him to answer as she moves to stand next to him on the side of the tower wall. They stand in silence, next to each other, together and apart – like it's always been between them. A shadow and a ghost eternally between them though Nikola wishes it wasn't so.

It's cold up on the tower, not freezing but not mild either and soon enough Nikola can hear Helen's breathes as she shivers silently. He doesn't move and he doesn't reach out to her, even though he really wants to, because that damned ghost is _still_ there and he isn't strong enough to push past it for the pair of them.

Eventually though it's _Helen_ who steps through the ghost and she slips an arm around one of his own, drawing warmth from him. He lets her hold him as he recalls the past and the shadows between them. He remembers Rome, back then he would have been elated to have Helen Magnus this close to him willingly. But times have changed, _he's_ changed. Or maybe he hasn't. Maybe he's that same Nikola just older. He still doesn't move though and he knows it's starting to worry Helen, even more than his silence is, but he can't bring himself to do anything to reassure her. Maybe that's because he doesn't want her to leave him alone now but he also doesn't want her to speak to him. He doesn't know.

He doesn't dare find out.

"I thought you were going to die." Helen says, her voice is so soft and so very vulnerable that Nikola wants to groan and roll his eyes and say _'must we do this Helen?'_ because he knows that they must, that they _have to_. It's their responsibility and though he will say to the contrary he always takes responsibility for his actions.

And sometimes those of others.

Like James. He takes responsibility for James' death even though he _knows_ that it wasn't his fault, could never have been his fault really but he _should_ _have noticed_ the device was failing the moment he saw them in the ruins of his ancestors' city. He could _hear_ it as he spoke to Helen and taunted Johnny. The quiet whirring with the slightest splutter and murmur as the device continued to fail on his friend. He wonders what James was thinking. Did his friend think that Nikola didn't care and that was why he didn't do anything? Or did James think Nikola didn't say anything out of respect? Or maybe James knew that he'd never notice the device's problems until it was far too late?

A few days ago he was ready for death as he lay on the floor, barely conscious and lacking enough strength to talk to Helen as she desperately tried to help him, but now he doesn't want to die anytime soon. Living for a couple more years means he won't have to see James' face if there is an afterlife. Living a couple more years means he won't have to look upon the people he's killed when deluded enough to believe in a world ruled by vampires. Living a couple more years means he'll be able to atone for his sins as best he can.

"I told you I'd hold on for the rest of my life." He whispers and he feels Helen stiffen against him slightly, she's as surprised as he is that he spoke. He smiles sadly as he stares with unseeing eyes out over the view of Old City. He can tell she's looking at him now with those eyes of hers that see too much sometimes, that have seen too much. He doesn't know what to do now, doesn't know what to say or how to say it and he hopes that Helen realises. But then again, he hopes she doesn't because he doesn't know what she'll say or do.

"Well it's a good thing you did." Helen says finally when the silence between them has stretched itself to breaking point. He wants to laugh at her statement but he can't seem to get past the blackness of his thoughts. They're overshadowing everything. She pulls at his arm slightly and, even though he's strong enough to remain where he is, he follows her silently as she guides them towards the door and back down to the rest of the Sanctuary.

"Stop thinking." She admonishes him gently and now he _does_ laugh.

"If I stopped thinking Helen then the world would stop." He responds and for the first time in days he feels something other than darkness about himself. His words aren't forced and they're not hesitant. He's not weary of saying anything wrong now. He smiles and he knows she's smiling too.

"Of course it would Nikola." Helen agrees patiently as they descend the stairs onto the top floor of the Sanctuary. "And we would never survive without your presence." Helen's voice is teasing now but there's something there that he can hear. It's like she's trying to tell him without saying it aloud _'I would never survive without you.'_ That's what he thinks she's _not_ saying. Not because she can't find the words but because she can't move on from the past.

That's the problem with Helen Magnus. She's a woman of so many different eras, constantly moving, constantly changing, but ultimately she's as stationary as her looks are because she never forgets the past and she can never really forgive it either. She can absolve you of it and wash her hands of it but, in the dead of the night, she remembers it all. Just like him. They both remember so much, maybe not the same things and maybe not in the same order but they still remember.

_James..._

_Nigel..._

_John..._

_Worth..._

_The Wars..._

_The weapons..._

_The Praxians..._

_The Cabal..._

_Afina..._

They both remember and they were both there for _it all_, at different times and in different places perhaps, but they were still _there_. And they're still here. And maybe his being a mongrel is for the best because he's not a fighter, he's not a warrior, he's not a leader and he's definitely _not_ a master.

He's one of the oldest and closest friends of Helen Magnus and that's _more than enough_ to make him better than any _true_ vampire. He's his own and if he follows a human woman and if he trusts human people and if he loses to human warriors then what does he care? Who is he to wonder what _true_ vampires are made of?

He's Nikola Tesla. Being a _true_ vampire would be too constricting for him afterall.

**End**


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